Left In Unsafe Hands
by LadyTrampleton
Summary: England's magic goes haywire again, only this time it's not his fault. The entire cast is affected this time, and Norway can't help either! Rated T for some swearing, but not that much... honest!
1. Chapter 1

Chapter I

"... Happy Birthday to you!"

Cheers and claps erupted from a nearby table where a group of humans were celebrating someone's birthday. England smiled and took a sip of his drink, wondering when he had last been near someone celebrating a birthday. He was sitting in a restaurant at the bar, still in his military uniform, watching the humans around him enjoy the evening. He was nursing a drink in his hands and surprisingly, it was only his third drink. England didn't feel like getting drunk tonight. Not only was he alone, he was rather tired and he was in America's home. America's beer was always watered down and never got England drunk. He would have to spend a fortune to get even slightly inebriated. Besides, he had been warned by Germany that morning that he was not allowed more than 10 units per night and he was barred from drinking with Norway. England didn't blame Germany for his tough measures, not after what happened that time in Leuven. No, tonight was a night off from drink; he would go to bed sober.

England glanced at his watch. It had just turned 07:30pm and he was already considering whether he should retire back to his hotel room. He shifted on the uncomfortable bar stool, running a hand through his messy hair. He had no real reason to stay out; most other nations were out clubbing somewhere, which didn't appeal to him. Any other time he would be up for dancing, but tonight... maybe he was just getting old. Not that he would admit that. Maybe he was just worn out. That sounded like a better reason to get back to his room. He was tired, that was all. He took a large gulp of his drink, intending to leave, when someone sat down at the bar next to him.

"Sup England? You drinking alone? Need some company?" a rather loud voice sounded in his ear. England suppressed a sigh. He had been alone all night. He should talk to someone, he didn't want to get a reputation for being boring, no matter how tired he was.

"Hello to you as well America. What would you like to drink?" England offered politely, knowing full well America would ask for Coke or something without alcohol. Poor kid didn't know what he was missing. Why he had to have such a high age limit on drink, England would never know.

"Thanks, I'll have a Coke. Why are you laughing?"

"No reason," England chuckled, signalling the bartender. The man nodded and brought a Coke can over to America, who loudly thanked him and cracked open the can. He didn't use the glass he was given. England shuddered a little; America never did learn manners.

"So why are you all alone? Friends left you again?" America said with mock concern. England glared, his temper fraying. Somehow America always managed to put England in a bad mood.

"I'm alone because I want to be. What's your excuse? No friends?" he snapped. He tapped the edge of his glass absentmindedly. The prospect of his quiet hotel room was becoming more appealing by the minute.

America laughed loudly, gulping down his Coke as he did. England was sure the man would end up choking to death one day. Only America could die of excessive consumption in a recession. England rubbed his eyes, trying to fight off the urge to sleep. He hadn't managed to rest on the seven-hour plane ride. He wondered how the other European nations were holding up with the time difference.

"Someone's grumpy tonight. What, no fairy friends here to cheer you up?" America asked, swivelling on his seat to lean against the bar. England felt his eyebrow twitch at the last comment.

"What about you? Has Tony gone back home?" England snapped a little harshly. He couldn't resist a dig at America's friend.

America looked a little flustered, which made England smirk. He'd hit a nerve.

"As a matter of fact he has," America stated before taking a large gulp of Coke. "At least he's real," he added petulantly. England gritted his teeth and tapped his fingers against the bar, trying to remain calm. He took a deep breath, holding in the words he wished to say. Instead, he opted for a more civil approach.

"You know that magic exists America," he said with a shake of his head, amazed at America's ability to deny the truth. He finished the rest of his drink. "And you also know that magical beings such as fairies exist. How many times do I have to tell you and prove it to you?"

"It's not real!" America snapped a little too loudly. Heads turned to stare at him. England sighed as America waved away their concern and turned back to face the bar. He was still just a big kid.

"So you believe that aliens exist in the universe, but you won't believe in magic?" England continued, leaning his elbow on the bar. "Despite finding me as a girl that time?"

"Well... that could have been anything," America muttered, looking anywhere but at England. "You could have drugged my coffee or something!"

"You found me first!" England snapped in disbelief. "And in case you don't remember, you made _sure_ I was a girl."

America had the grace to blush. England searched for a cigarette, feeling smug. There was no way America could deny magic existed after _that_ interesting night. Yet here they were, arguing over something trivial. Yet again. England sighed, giving up on finding his cigarette packet. A warm bed, that was what he needed. He'd heard enough noise for one day.

"Whatever dude," America said dismissively, crushing his Coke can in one hand. "You need to grow up. You're how old and you still believe in children's stories?"

"Mock me all you want America, you're just in denial."

"What's to deny? Your magic isn't real. Even if it was, what could it do? I doubt you'd be able to do anything amazing with it. The best you could do is dust your old furniture with it."

England slammed his fists onto the bar and pushed himself up, knocking the bar stool to the ground with a loud _clack_. The crowd of humans started to mutter and point at the two men, who seemed to be arguing constantly. England turned slowly, an evil glint in his eye and his mouth curled into a snarl. His hand snapped out and grabbed America's lapels, lifting him up off the bar stool.

"Listen America, you know what happened that night when I was a girl," England growled, his face inches from America's. "You think you know so much, but you won't accept the truth even if it's staring you in the face. My magic can do much, much more than you friend Tony could. Remember that next time you insult me."

With that, England threw America back onto his stool and strode from the restaurant, leaving the red-faced nation all alone.

0O0

England sighed as he turned the key to his hotel room, stumbling through into the darkness. The walk back to the hotel and lessened his anger, but now he felt bad for snapping at America. Yes he was tired but there was no excuse for rudeness. Then again, the man had deserved it, especially when there was undeniable proof that magic did exist. A yawn broke free, threatening to break England's jaw. He stretched and tugged off his jacket and tie, throwing them onto a nearby chair. Sleep was calling him and he had no strength to refuse. He paused to rub his eyes and flick on the lights...

He jumped and landed in a pile on the floor when he saw who was waiting for him in his bed.

"France? What the bloody hell are you doing here?" he shrieked. He automatically went to cover himself before realising he was still clothed. Whenever France was around, it was always best practice to cover yourself, no matter the situation.

"Ah Angleterre, there you are," France purred, ignoring England's over-the-top reaction. "I've been waiting for you."

Pushing himself to his feet, England groaned. "France, I'm in no mood to play games tonight."

France pouted at England's words and let the bed-sheets fall into his lap, exposing his chest. "But Angleterre, I've been so lonely waiting for you."

"I won't ask why you're naked," England muttered as he sat on the edge of his bed. He tugged off his boots and began to unbutton his shirt. The mattress moved underneath him as France edged closer, but England was too tired to react. Instead, he threw his shirt to the floor and began unbuttoning his trousers, trying his hardest to keep his eyes open.

"My, you are tired," France mumbled. Hands settled on England's shoulders and began to trace circles on his skin. "Too tired for a little... indulgence?"

"Indulge all you want France, but I don't think I'd be able to reciprocate," England muttered. His hands had stopped undoing his trousers and his eyes grew heavy. He felt himself falling forwards and pulled back with a jolt. France chuckled behind him.

"Mon dieu, you've really become an old man England."

"Don't you start," England snapped, yanking off his trousers and socks. "Bad enough America insults me all the time, I don't need you to help," he grumbled under his breath. Sitting in just his boxers, he felt very vulnerable, especially with France's hands massaging his shoulders.

"Oh so it was little America that put you in such a mood," France said, giving England's shoulders a tight squeeze. England couldn't deny that France's massage was amazing, as usual. "What did he say now? The eyebrows again?"

"No not that," England said lazily, feeling far too relaxed. His eyes grew heavy again. "My magic."

"Ah that again," France said with a chuckle. He placed a kiss on England's shoulder. "Forget about it, he's always been into his aliens more than magic."

England jolted awake again as he felt France's hands travel down his back and circle his waist. He pushed France's hands away and rose slowly, raking a hand through his hair. With another wide yawn, England pulled the covers up and climbed into bed next to France. He settled down on his side, facing France, who smiled and lay back, propping himself up on one elbow. He ran his fingers through England's hair soothingly as England fought to stay awake.

"America can be such an idiot," England mumbled, relishing the feeling on his scalp.

"He learned from the best," France joked. England scowled up at him, but France merely laughed. "You know I'm just teasing you. There's nothing you can do to change him, so don't dwell on whatever he said."

"I'll never understand why America doesn't just accept that magic is real," England muttered, more to himself than France.

France shook his head and sighed. "Neither will I."

"You accept that it's real?" England asked, raising his head from the pillow.

"Does that surprise you?" France asked with a raise of an eyebrow. He flicked some of his hair over his shoulder as England averted his gaze.

"Well... a little," England confessed. He flipped over to lay on his back with his hands interlocked behind his head. "All the years you picked on me, I'm just surprised you would believe anything I say."

"I confess, it's not often I do," France said with a smirk. England slapped his shoulder with a glare. France just chuckled again and took England's hand in his own, licking the knuckles suggestively. England blushed and tried to yank his hand away, but France held tight.

"Let go," England growled, tugging again. He could his energy draining away.

"There are too many strange things in this world," France continued, ignoring England's protests. "All these stories you here of dragons, fairies and other magical things... every culture has them to varying extents. There has to be an element of truth in it. Just because I cannot see what you see, doesn't mean I don't believe in it."

"It's creepy when you talk like this," England mumbled, managing to wrench his hand free. He sighed and turned on his side, facing away from France. "Anyway I'm tired. Go to sleep here if you want or bugger off to your room."

England felt France shift closer, the mattress creaking underneath their combined weights. A hand snaked its way along England's waist and settled against his chest. The warmth England felt from France's body was very comforting... not that he would admit it. He was just very tired, that's why he felt so relaxed around France. Nothing more.

"Speaking of magic, how about you turn yourself into a girl again?" France muttered against his back. England lashed out with his legs, kicking France in the shins. He raised a fist to smack France in the face, but the man deftly caught his wrist and held him down. "I'm joking! I don't mind whatever form you are in," he added with a grin. He leaned in for a passionate kiss, sliding his way between England's legs.

"You've been hanging around with Spain and Prussia for too long," England gasped when he pulled away for air. He tried to wriggle free, but all it did was give France more access. He cursed mentally.

France's eyebrows creased in slight confusion. "How so?"

"Taking advantage of someone who's already said they are tired is definitely how they would react!"

"I don't think I could ever take advantage of you Angleterre," France mumbled as he trailed kisses down England's neck. England tried not to shiver, but the Frenchman's kisses were always just so good. "You always enjoy whatever I do to you."

"Not... always," England said through gritted teeth, trying not to make any noise as those amazing kisses slowly made their way down to his chest.

"We'll see about that," France muttered without looking at England. "I'll make you forget all about that bad mood you're in."

"I'm not in a mood!"

"Oui oui, now be quiet."

"Don't talk to me like... ah..."

As the night wore on and France's kisses travelled lower, England managed to forget just how tired he really was.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter II

England stretched lazily, searching for the alarm clock that was screaming at him. After several failed attempts he managed to hit the snooze button, silencing the metal screech. He was awake now, which was a shame. Bleary-eyed, he glanced at the clock. It showed 06:45am. England sighed and ran a hand over his face. Ten more minutes in bed would have been greatly appreciated. As England stretched again, he realised France wasn't next to him. He hadn't noticed the nation leave; he must have been exhausted after... well... England didn't dwell on last night's activities. Although his hips did ache a little...

With a yawn, England began to mentally run through the day's schedule. The last meeting was happening this morning, with America summing up the day's talks at approximately 15:30pm. Hopefully it would finish earlier than that, as everyone had said their piece earlier. Afterwards England had planned to meet with France and Germany to discuss-

Something felt wrong.

England bolted upright in his bed. Long, flowing locks trailed down his shoulders. England threw the covers away and gave a yelp of shock.

He was a girl again.

"What the...?" he whispered, hands checking to make sure this wasn't a dream. No, he was awake. And he was a girl. Yet again. And he was naked.

"I'm a girl," he stated with deadpan acceptance, giving himself a little slap. How he had become a girl? Only one answer popped into his mind.

Norway.

Scrambling to his feet, England found an elastic band to tie his hair back and tugged on his discarded boxers. He rummaged through his suitcase and found an old T-shirt that was baggy enough to cover his new breasts, although the material did have to stretch a fair bit. When he was done dressing, he made his way to the door, not bothering with shoes or a dressing gown. Norway's room was across the hallway and he was the only other person who could cause this to happen. With a grimace, England reached for the doorknob. Norway had better have a good excuse for turning England into a girl, or else there would be-

Someone thumped their fist against England's door, seconds before he could turn the handle. He froze, heart pounding in his chest. Why did someone have to be here of all times? It couldn't be the maid already, and England hadn't ordered breakfast in bed. His fingers twitched as he considered his options. He couldn't let anyone see him like this, but he needed to get to Nor. Damn!

The fist thumped again, this time harder and louder.

"Angleterre? I know you're in there!"

_France?_ England thought. _He __came__ back __at __a __time__ like __this? __Why __does __he__ sound __angry?_

"Open the door Angleterre!" France yelled, thumping again. The door hinges squeaked in protest and England took a step back, staring in disbelief. "Open this door! I know you did this! You and your fucking magic! You didn't have to prove your point; I already said I believed you!"

_Huh?_

Suddenly the door flew open, slamming into England's face. He fell backwards, landing on the floor with a thump and a loud curse. His hands flew to his face as pain flared. When he pulled his hands away, blood began to pour from his nose into his mouth and down his chin. He cursed loudly and curled into a ball, tentatively feeling his nose. It felt sore, but thankfully not broken. Blood dripped onto the carpet as he tried to cope with the intense pain.

"Fucking hell France!" he screamed. He was too angry to notice how girly he sounded. "What the fuck did you do that for? Fuck! My nose!" England lifted his head to shout some more, but the words died in his throat.

It wasn't France who had broken the door. England sat looking up into the angry faces of Denmark and Sweden. They in turn looked slightly surprised to see a cowering girl in England's room wearing a T-shirt and a pair of boxers.

"England?" Denmark asked, his brows creasing in confusion. He was already dressed, despite the early morning. His coat billowed around him and his forage cap sat askew on his head.

"Yes it's me!" England shouted as pain flared across his face again. "Fucking hell you two! You dicks, you almost broke my fucking nose!" England was ashamed to find tears streaming down his face. He cupped his nose again, wincing with every touch.

"Why are you a girl?" Denmark asked, not moving from where he stood in the doorway. Sweden had England's door in his hand and was staring intensely in his usual scary way. Norway stood hovering behind him, standing on tip-toes to peer over Sweden's shoulder. There was a strangely blank look on his face. He was holding the hand of a boy who looked like Iceland. England then noticed that Finland was hanging from Denmark's shoulders, legs dangling and face beaming as he rubbed against Denmark's back.

"Why are you lot here? Why the fuck did you break my door down?" England snapped, not answering Denmark's question. "Also what is wrong with Fin?"

"That's why we're here," Sweden grumbled, setting the broken door on the ground. He pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose and beckoned the blank-looking Norway forwards. "What have you done to Norway?"

"What have _I_ done?" he repeated, wiping away tears and blood. "What has Norway done? I woke up this morning to find I'm a girl!" For emphasis, he grabbed his new breasts and jiggled them. Denmark blushed a little and Sweden looked uncomfortable.

England started to rise, but his legs wobbled from adrenaline. Somehow France appeared at his side, offering an arm and looking concerned. England took it gratefully and was pleased to notice that he was dressed. Last thing he needed was a naked Frenchman running around.

"Thanks France," he muttered, pulling down his T-shirt that had somehow managed to ride up and expose his stomach.

"France?" Denmark repeated, glancing around the room. "What are you talking about England?"

"I said thanks to France for helping me up. He's right here, look." England pointed to where France stood with his arms crossed and an angry scowl on his face. Denmark glanced at Sweden, who shook his head.

"England, no one is there," Denmark said. He looked at England with fresh concern. "Did I hit you too hard with the door?"

"What? But France is here! Look, he's standing right there!" England shouted. The two Nordics glanced at each other, looking more worried. France sighed.

"Angleterre, no one can see or hear me. That's why I'm here. Luckily I managed to move before these two idiots slammed into me."

"England I know you're not in your right mind, but you need to undo whatever you've done to Norway, Iceland and Finland," Sweden said, in as soothing a way as Sweden could manage.

"WAIT!" England screamed, slamming a foot down onto the ground, which somehow managed to make his face throb with pain. "France, move something to show you are here before these two send me to the mental ward. Right now!"

"Angleterre, you sound so cute," France muttered with a laugh, not moving from where he stood. England glared at him and raised a fist, but as he snarled his nose bled again. He cupped it and tried not to whimper in pain.

"Oh, she's talking to that other man," Norway chimed, looking past the two tall Nordics at France. He strode forward with a very unusual smile on his face. "Hello, nice to meet you," he said, offering a hand for France to shake. France shook it, dumbfounded.

"France is there? And Nor can see him?" Denmark breathed, shaking his head incredulously. "I'm so confused."

"_You__'__re_ confused?" England asked. "What the- fuck my nose!" he whimpered as more pain flared. "The pair of you are fucking twats!"

"Sorry England," Denmark offered. He pulled a tissue from his pocket and went to offer it to England, but Finland tugged on his neck, stopping him from moving.

"No! Don't help her! You're mine!" he cried. He glared at England and stuck his tongue out.

Sweden glared at Denmark, who raised his hands in a sign of peace. "Sve you know I had nothing to do with this." In response, Sweden cracked his knuckles. From his side, the little boy appeared and grabbed hold of Sweden's coat.

"I'd kick his arse," the boy said, pulling out a piece of liquorice from his pocket. "If I were bigger I'd kick you in the shin too England!" he added with a shout. He sounded too cute to take seriously.

"Hey that's not nice!" Norway said with a scowl. He moved away from France and kneeled down to the boy's height. "You should treat girls with respect," he stated, shaking a finger at the child.

"Everyone! Calm. The. Fuck. Down," England shouted. Everyone froze as England assumed leadership, despite feeling faint from blood loss. "Sweden and Denmark, put my door back on its hinges if you can. France, keep Norway busy. Iceland just shut up. We all need to talk."

A few moments later, England's door was partially fixed and all the nations were seated on his bed in a large circle. Finland was sat in Denmark's lap, forcing Denmark's arms around his waist. Sweden was sat next to him with Iceland in his lap, who was busy eating some more liquorice. Norway was seated next to Sweden, looking around England's room with mild curiosity and a slight smile on his face. There was a gap next to Norway where France was seated. England sat leaning against the headboard with a tissue in his nose trying to stem the blood. He had a glass of water nearby in case he started to feel faint again. This was not how he wanted to start the day.

"OK, so what happened? One at a time please," he said, holding up a hand as everyone drew breath. "Denmark, you first please."

"I woke up to find Finland in bed with me," he said, avoiding Sweden's glare. "I had no idea why he would be there and when I told him to leave, he was adamant he would stay because apparently we were together. I went to find Norway to see if he had made Fin act like this. Sve was in Nor's room already and you can assume what happened."

"I can indeed," England grumbled to himself. "Sweden, your version please."

"I woke up to find Finland missing and I went to Norway's room to see if he was there. Norway has no recollection of us, or who he is. His memory has been completely wiped. I was trying to find out if he knew how this had happened when Den and Fin walked in."

"I ran into Norway's room, thinking he had done this," Iceland added, pointing to his body. "I found Denmark and Sweden fighting and Norway looking confused. He didn't recognise me."

"And I woke up to find no one could see or hear me."

"How did you discover that? Sorry I'm talking to France," England added when the Nordics looked at him in surprise.

"Well after last night I thought I'd let you get some needed sleep," he said with a smirk. England resisted the urge to glare; his nose still throbbed in pain. "I went to sleep as normal and when I woke up nothing felt different. I only realised what had happened when the maid didn't response to my calls, nor did she notice me standing there naked."

"What did he say?" Denmark asked, reaching out a hand to where France sat. France swatted the hand away with annoyance, which only made Denmark more determined to find him.

"He said he realised when the maid didn't see him," England repeated, staring at France with a slight smirk. There was no need to repeat everything he said, which would be a great advantage. "Fucking hell, how has this happened?" England murmured, sinking into the bed with a hand over his face.

"You didn't do it?" asked Denmark, sounding genuinely surprised.

"No I did not!" England snapped, wincing as his nose twitched. "Why would I do this then turn myself into a girl? I can only assume that Nor was playing a trick that backfired, which is why we've all ended up like this."

Everyone looked at Norway, who shrugged. "Maybe I did. I don't remember anything, or any of you."

"I'm surprised Nor would do something like that," Sweden grumbled. "He only messes around with magic when annoyed or drunk."

"Was he drunk last night?" England asked. Denmark shook his head in response as he tried to fight off Finland's grabbing hands.

"He went to bed same time as us, and wasn't drunk," Iceland said from Sweden's lap, frowning in concentration. "I don't think he had any alcohol last night."

"He looks so cute," France muttered at England's side. England said nothing, but arched an eyebrow at him. "What? He can't hear me," he added when he caught England's gaze.

"Anyway, it doesn't matter how it happened, let's see if I can rectify this," England mumbled with a sigh, taking the bloody tissue from his nose. Thankfully it had stopped bleeding, although it had now begun to swell.

England stood and walked over to his chest of drawers. He tugged open the bottom drawer, reaching inside to find the solution to all their problems. After a moment of searching, he frowned and bent down lower to check inside the drawer, ignoring the whistle he heard from France. Surely it should be in there? He had made sure to keep it somewhere out of the way but accessible. He reached in further, but found only the back of the wooden drawer. Panic began to spread within his mind and his girlish face paled. He grabbed hold of the drawer and pulled it out of its enclosure. It clattered to the ground, empty. Shivering, England hugged himself, trying not to panic.

"What is it?" someone asked, he didn't know who nor did he care. Now he realised what had happened, why he had woken as a girl and why the other nations had been affected. A cold sweat broke out on his back as endless possibilities raced through his mind. He could only breathe out the five words he wished never to utter.

"Someone has stolen my wand."


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter III

It took several deep breaths, a few slaps and a shot of whiskey before England managed to calm down. He sat on the floor, hugging his knees to his chest and thinking hard. He had searched his entire room, pulling out drawers and emptying out his wardrobes. He'd even searched the tiny bathroom he had, opening the tiny cupboards and throwing out everything inside. His wand was nowhere to be found. England knew he hadn't taken his wand out of its case until he had arrived in his room, so it could only be inside the tiny bedroom. England had physically retraced his steps from when he arrived in the hotel room, walking around the tiny space with the other nations watching him from their seats on the bed. England had then overturned the mattress and pulled the bed away from the wall in desperation. Norway had taken the unusual step of searching through the piles of discarded clothes to see if the wand had been overlooked, but that proved fruitless.

Sweden and Norway had kindly and discretely started to put England's room back into order as he sat muttering to himself. Finland was still trying to get into Denmark's pants and Iceland was looking vaguely amused from his seat on the windowsill. France joined them, though he stopped when the Nordics grew worried at the sight of clothes moving of their own accord. Despite Norway's explanations that 'the blond haired man with the lecherous face' was helping, Sweden and Denmark still jumped slightly when clothes appeared in the wardrobe.

England buried his face in his knees as he tried to stop himself sinking into a deep depression. He began to rock on the spot as his thoughts crashed inside his skull.

_I can't just sit here and wallow in despair, I have to do something,_ England forced himself to think as he stopped rocking._ Let's think about this, _w_ho was I with last night? After the meeting we all went our separate ways. I came back here to get some American currency, but I was alone and only in my room for a few minutes. The bar was the next stop, that's where I met America. But I left America at the bar and came back here, where I found..._

"France..." England growled, raising his head from his knees. The nations stopped what they were doing as England leapt up to face France, who was inspecting the contents of England's briefcase. France shook his head and held up his hands, blond hair floating over his shoulders as he backed away.

"Angleterre please," France soothed, "I know what you're thinking, but why would I steal your wand then spell myself? And if I had taken it, why would I return to your room without it? I didn't even know you had it with you, I didn't go anywhere except your bed last night. Believe me."

_Unfortunately I do, _England thought to himself as he fell back onto his mattress. He sighed and ran a hand over his face. _OK calm down. Just calm down. Your wand is gone, now who could have taken it and why? Who knew it was here? _

"Why would you suspect France of having your wand?" Iceland asked from the window, his childish voice slurring words as he ate more liquorice. England looked away, not wanting the others to see his incriminating blush. France laughed loudly, but only England heard it. He snarled at France, which made his nose throb again. France continued laughing and returned to rummaging through England's documents. At least someone was having fun.

"I take it France was here last night," Sweden muttered. England could only nod in response, shame making his bush brighter.

"Oh," someone muttered. It sounded like Denmark. Finland then giggled and Norway made a questioning sound. England hoped someone else would explain the underlying meaning.

"So we can assume whoever has your wand is causing these... problems? Not Norway?" France asked. England nodded then repeated France's words for the others' benefit.

_I hope that is the case, _England thought shaking his head. _This is crazy!_ _No one had ever done this before, why now of all times? _

"We need to find whoever has your wand before they cause even more chaos," Sweden said, interrupting England's thoughts. He stood straighter and pushed his glasses up his nose. "There's no time to lose. England get dressed, we're going."

"We?" Denmark asked, pushing Finland away. Finland laughed and launched himself at Denmark, looping his arms around the taller nation's neck, trying to pull him in for a kiss. It was a very creepy display, seeing as Fin normally refrained from such blatant shows of affection.

"Yes. I'm not sitting around waiting for something else to happen. Besides," he glared at Denmark with narrow eyes, "I want Fin back to normal."

England shook his head at Sweden's jealousy. Pushing himself off the bed, England turned and rummaged through the remaining piles of clothes that lined the floor. The ones he knew wouldn't fit his new frame he threw to one side. He found a pair of shorts that could work, but he didn't want to go running around the hotel with his legs bare. France's comments and whistles didn't help either and he sent several glares towards the nation. He even threw some clothes at France after a particularly rude comment. After several moments of searching with no luck, England plucked up the courage to ask something he really didn't want to.

"Erm... could I borrow a shirt from one of you?" he muttered, fidgeting in embarrassment and not looking at Denmark or Sweden. "Now I'm a girl, most of my clothes don't fit, for obvious reasons."

With an exasperated sigh, Sweden pulled off his long blue coat and roughly wrapped it around England's body. It was slightly too long in the arms and almost touched the floor, but England didn't complain. He used one of his military belts to keep it secure around his – surprisingly small – waist. He was grateful that it covered most of his body; it could even pass for a dress if someone glanced at it quickly.

"Thanks Sweden," he said, tugging on a pair of socks and his usual brown military boots.

"Call me Sve," Sweden grumbled. It wasn't often England saw him without his coat; it looked a little strange. Sweden obviously liked the colour black, judging by his trousers, boots, shirt and tie.

"Oh... thanks Sve."

"Come on, let's go!" Denmark said with a sigh, trying to shake Finland from his back as he stood. It didn't work, so he looped his arms under Finland's legs ensuring the smaller nation didn't tug too harshly on his neck. Sweden glared, but said nothing. Instead, he grabbed Iceland from the windowsill and held him against his chest, simultaneously taking hold of Norway's hand. England reached for France, who took the opportunity to slide a hand under Sweden's coat.

"France, stop it! Just because no one can see you, doesn't mean you can do that!" England snapped, swatting France's hand away. He was grateful he still wore his boxers and T-shirt underneath.

"Come on you two!" Denmark snarled, grabbing England by the arm and roughly tugging him out of the room. England managed to snatch the room key before the door closed.

_What a sight we must make, _England thought as the six nations stormed through the hotel corridors. His heart was filled with dread. Whoever had taken his wand had made a complete mess of the Nordics. England shuddered when he thought what could have happened to the other countries...

0O0

"Where are we going anyway?" England asked as he stood squashed inside one of the two elevators the hotel had. He was pressed against the mirrored wall, sandwiched between Norway and France. It was incredibly stuffy inside the elevator – England was finding it a little difficult to breathe. A hand was resting on his backside. England knew which nation the hand belonged to, but there was no space to swat it away. His anger rose as the hand began to squeeze, but he didn't show it. None of the other nations could see what France was doing and he didn't want to make a scene in such an enclosed space.

"To look at the security cameras," Sweden muttered, holding Iceland close. It seemed that when Iceland's age reduced, he had taken on child-like habits. He was sound asleep against Sweden's chest, with a thumb in his mouth and his white hair over his eyes. Sweden was doing a good job of keeping him asleep, rocking him and rubbing his back soothingly. England had to admit, it was a very cute sight. Sweden made a very good dad.

"Hopefully they should see who broke into your room and stole your wand," Denmark added looking deliberately at the ceiling and not at the person pushing up against him. Finland was pressed against his chest, his face beaming like a cat and his arms wrapped around Denmark's waist. Whoever had cast that spell on Finland had made it pretty strong.

"The sooner this is over the better," England muttered, looking at his feet. He turned his face away from France's leer and caught Norway looking at him blankly.

"You're quite a pretty girl you know," Norway said with a smile. England stammered a reply, trying to explain that this wasn't how he normally looked while the others chuckled loudly. He was grateful when the elevator finally stopped and the doors opened, allowing fresh air into the tiny room.

A short walk later, the group arrived at the main reception of the hotel. From the main glass doors, England could see the cloudy sky and a few businessmen and other workers beginning their morning trek to work. The hotel itself was surprisingly plain; a white sofa was situated in the waiting area, the walls were a magnolia colour and white flowers were kept in white vases on the main reception desk. There were lots of mirrors dotted around the room, all with gold frames. England was a little surprised at the simplistic theme. He expected America's hotels to be just like him; over-the-top and too bold.

England's heart sank when he noticed no one was at the main desk and the lights were all switched off. How could there be no staff at this time of day? Mornings were the busiest times for any hotel, no matter the country. Denmark managed tug one hand free from Finland's embrace to ring a bell on the front desk, but still no one arrived. Sweden leaned over to check the offices behind the desk, but shook his head. With a sigh, England vaulted over the desk – careful not to give France a good view – and began to search through the back offices. Papers, stationery and the usual office items were strewn across desks and telephones, but he found no humans. He glanced at a clock on the wall. 07:30am... how could no one be here?

"Any luck?" Denmark called. England returned to the desk and leapt over it shaking his head.

"Let's just look for the security office," France said, wandering off towards a long corridor lined with offices. England followed, repeating his words for the Nordics. "We should be able to find it easily enough. And if the door is locked, I'm sure the two imbeciles could break it down for us," he added with a grumble. England chose not to repeat that part.

"What does imbecile mean?" Norway asked as he followed Sweden. England found himself strangely tongue-tied and France walked a little faster. If Denmark or Sweden were insulted, they said nothing about it.

"By the way England, I've been meaning to ask you," Sweden said with a grumble as they walked, "why is Norway able to see France when we can't?" He shifted Iceland, who was still asleep to his other arm. The little nation muttered in his sleep, cursing in Icelandic.

England creased his brows as he thought how to best phrase his answer. "Mutual magical abilities I believe. He can see my fairies and I can see his trolls whenever they appear. I assume our innate abilities remain no matter the circumstances."

"Makes sense," Denmark said with Finland on his back again, who was still grinning like a Cheshire cat. "I can't recall a time when Nor couldn't use magic. I guess it's in his blood... or something like that." Sweden glanced at him but said nothing. England was a little relieved they had settled down; he didn't need them fighting at every opportunity over Fin.

Small, compact offices began to appear on either side of the long corridor, each with plaques displayed the company name and staff name in gold lettering. Amazingly, they were unlocked. England began to wonder whether something magical had happened to the humans who worked in the hotel; a feeling in his gut told him he should worry. However, he first had to solve his own problem before worrying about humans. The group began their search, each choosing an office to check. England prayed that the security office was along this corridor. It would make sense to have the security office near the front desk, most other hotels did. Unfortunately, the offices appeared to be for administration purposes. All had computers, filing cabinets and loud air-conditioning. England was grateful for the fresh cool air; he was getting a little warm in Sweden's thick coat. How the man survived in it was a mystery.

"England! There you are!" a voice shouted from the main reception desk. Everyone instantly closed to door to the office they were searching and tried not to appear too guilty. England mentally readied himself for the next problem when he recognised the voice. "Prepare to face me in combat wretch! We'll settle this dispute once and for all!"

Standing at the reception desk wearing loose fitting trousers that finished at mid-calf and a loose linen shirt was Spain. He also wore an old Spanish conquistador hat and had a rapier sword in his hand. Shouting loudly in rapid Spanish, Spain ran towards England, rapier held high ready to slice anyone who got in his way. With a cry, Spain jumped and lunged towards England, only to be met by Denmark, who punched him in the stomach. Spain crumpled to the floor, dropping his sword and wrapping his arms around himself. His hat fell over his face and he emitted a strange gurgling noise. Denmark didn't show any remorse for his action, he was too busy shifting Finland off his back. England had no sympathy for Spain, not when he tried to attack a man surrounded by allies. How stupid could you get?

"Fucking hell! Damn you Spain! I said to stop running off!" someone else shouted. England saw Romano, Spain's ever-present mascot, turn the corner and run towards the group wearing an angry scowl. Not that his expression ever changed that much. "England, whatever you have done to him fucking undo it now!" he spat, pointing to the limp Spain on the ground.

"What's happened?" Iceland grumbled, rubbing his eyes sleepily. Sweden placed a gentle hand on his head and pushed him back to his chest, mussing his hair gently. Adorably, Iceland fell back asleep instantly.

"He thinks he's a fucking conquistador again! Why is he like this?" Romano snapped, not bothering with manners. If he thought it strange England was a girl, he didn't show any surprise. England sighed and ran a hand over his face.

"It's a long story, but someone has stolen my wand," he said, trying to keep calm. He watched as France kneeled down and poked Spain in the stomach, making his gurgling sounds change into whimpers. England resisted the urge to kick them both.

"Stolen your wand? How did that happen? And why has this happened to Spain?"

"As I just said, I don't know," England replied. His hand twitched, wanting to slap the stupid man, but he held it in check. "I can only assume part of Spain's memories had been erased if he thinks he's a conquistador again. We're trying to find out who has done this. Why are you here anyway?"

"Spain ran off trying to find you," Romano said, folding his arms. "When we woke up, he was saying all this crazy shit about old times and something about revenge for the armada. I think his memories have been erased; he truly believes he's a conquistador. I have no idea where he found that hat and sword. I left him along for two fucking seconds and he disappeared. I've ran the length of the hotel trying to find him. He really hates you y'know."

"The feeling was mutual back in the day," England growled, although it didn't sound very convincing with such a girly voice. He pushed past Romano and continued his search for the security office.

_I really have no time for this, _England thought, throwing the next door open. It slammed against the wall, causing a shelf of books to collapse. _Whoever has my wand is completely fucking everyone. Spain's memory partially gone, Norway's completely gone, Iceland's age reduced... what more could happen? Whoever's done this is going to feel my full fucking rage! _

"So why do you have a child in your arms?" England heard Romano ask as he slammed the door shut.

"It's Iceland, his age has been reduced," Sweden muttered.

"Stop poking me," Spain groaned from the floor. He kicked out in a random direction as France stood and moved away laughing. England wandered off to the next room, gritting his teeth. He let one of the other nations explain about France, not caring who did it. He was now in a thoroughly foul mood and ready to snap at the next person who asked him what had happened. The pain in his nose had lessened and thankfully his nose had swollen only a little, but every now and then it would flare up, which didn't help his mood. England made several curses and death-threats as he reached the last office.

"Found it!" he shouted with glee as he threw open the door. His eyes lit up as he saw several large monitors displaying various locations around the hotel, a large desk and a big chair. Finally he was a step closer to solving this mystery.

"Great! Now what?" France said at his side.

_How does he move so fast? _England thought as he took a seat at the largest monitor. The controls looked simplistic enough, and it didn't really matter if he messed up the hotel's security system... not that he would do that deliberately... but it was very tempting.

"I'll rewind the tape from last night. Hopefully it should show who went in my room," he said, glancing at the monitors. All of the nations were staying on the third floor, as it had the biggest meeting room. The meeting room was situated in the middle of the floor, with large grey fire-doors on either side to meet with safety regulations. It also meant that the meeting room could be accessed by residents staying on either side of the main room, making trips to and from their rooms quicker. The main monitor showed the meeting room as currently empty. Two secondary monitors on either side showed the corresponding corridors.

England found the right screen and pulled the chair over to it, rolling up the sleeves of Sweden's coat as he did. He pressed a button underneath the screen and let out a breath as the image began to rewind rapidly. A cool hand slid along England's exposed leg, which he slapped away angrily.

"Will you stop doing that?" he hissed at France, who simply smirked.

"You realise the cameras have recorded me coming out of your room. Hope you don't mind the others seeing it," France added with a lift of an eyebrow. His hand delved under Sweden's coat again, fingertips edging closer to England's groin. "You know, if you're thinking of compensating me for this incident-"

"I am not and will not, now shut up and let me get on with this," England snapped roughly shoving France away. He ignored the strange looks from the others as they piled inside the tiny office. Spain was on his feet, wedged between Sweden and Denmark, the latter keeping a hand on Spain's shoulder. Finland was looking a little jealous with his arms crossed while Romano was looking thoroughly confused at the sight.

"You found it?" Sweden asked, shifting Iceland to his other arm. The little nation was still asleep with one hand clutching Sweden's shirt. England made a note to take a photograph of that image if it were possible.

"Got it," England mumbled, pressing play. The screen showing the corridor where he and the Nordics were staying began to move. The time displayed was 02:57am.

Everyone pressed closer for a better look. There were a few awkward coughs when the screen displayed France leaving England's room with a satisfied grin. England clenched his fist and glared at France, who blew a kiss in return. Thankfully, Romano stood between them, so England couldn't throttle France. Norway leaned forward to press the fast-forward button, surprising everyone in the room. He blinked at his own action and withdrew his hand, looking confused. Whatever spell had been used on him was obviously specific in which memories remained.

"Fanden!" Denmark breathed as England pressed play. On the screen, a figure appeared from the elevators. The figure strolled towards England's room with his hands in his pockets, looking perfectly at ease. The man paused at England's closed door, looking up and down the corridor. He then produced a duplicate key and carefully opened England's door, disappearing inside. England could feel the rage building inside as he watch the figure return moments later, sliding England's wand into his jacket pocket. He made a final check before slowly closing England's door. He then walked back to the elevator, a slight skip in his step. England rewound the tape, then paused it so the figure's face was easily seen. Everyone cursed in their respective languages, except those who were asleep or confused.

"Fucking tosser!" England hissed at the screen. He slammed his fists against the arms of the chair, pain jarring along his elbows. "I should have fucking known!"

"Where is he now?" Romano asked, searching the screens.

All eyes flicked to the largest monitor showing the inside of the meeting room. A door opened and the same nation sauntered inside, twirling England's wand in his hand. It looked like he was whistling, obviously pleased with himself. England heard several curses from the others and knuckles click threateningly. The nation on the screen sat down on one of the large office chairs with his back to the camera.

"Gentlemen," England said, pushing himself onto his feet. "We have our culprit. I believe it is time for revenge..."


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter IV

With England at the head, the group of nations made their way back to the third floor of the hotel. They chose not to use the tiny elevators; the group was far too large to fit comfortably inside, and no one wanted to be separated. Instead, they had agreed to walk up the stairs. As England took the lead, Spain was kept to the rear so as not to provoke any violence. With France being invisible, he remained behind Spain, ready to restrain his friend at the first sign of trouble. Romano walked in front of Spain, his nose glued to his mobile. He had been texting furiously throughout the walk, though England had no idea who he was texting. Probably his brother, which meant Germany would know what they were up to. He pushed the thought to one side, focusing on his goal. Now that England had seen the thief who stole his wand, he assumed that other nations had been affected by the culprit's whims. There was no telling what could have happened, but England mentally prepared himself for the worst.

It was now 07:59am. The final meeting scheduled for this morning was due to start at 08:30am. England assumed that all nations would be awake, dressed and panicking for various reasons. If he was lucky, he would corner the man who had stolen his wand and reverse any spells created before the other nations could find him and accuse him of messing up their lives. England frowned as he pondered his luck... so far he hadn't been very lucky. A jolt of pain flared from his nose, but he ignored it. He grit his teeth and scowled to himself as he became lost in his thoughts.

_I can't believe he would do this! Him of all people! Wait until I find him, I'll rip his fucking throat out! How dare he sneak into my room and steal my wand! _My _wand! How dare he even try to use it! That fucking little arsehole! I will kill him! I fucking swear it!_

When England reached the third level, he threw open the large fire-door. It slammed into the wall behind and left a large hole in the plaster. England didn't even notice as he stormed through the doorway. The other nations eyed him cautiously and kept their distance.

"Hey Eng, you alright?" Denmark asked. England grunted in response. Of course he wasn't alright! His wand had been stolen and every nation he had met had blamed him for the repercussions. Because something like that would put you in a wonderful mood. He really wanted to snap at Denmark, but he bit his tongue. None of this was Denmark's fault – well his painful nose was.

A loud voice interrupted England's internal monologue.

"Yo Spain! There you are!"

Everyone turned to see Austria standing in the corridor with a hand on his hip. He was dressed in his usual clothes, except the cravat was missing and the top of his shirt was open. He seemed very sure of himself as he walked forwards waving at Spain, carrying himself with an air of cocky arrogance. Spain looked puzzled, as did everyone else. Austria never said 'yo,' nor did he grin in front of an audience. Something didn't seem right. England's heart sank as he realised what had happened. He slapped a hand over his eyes and swore to himself. Sweden gave him an enquiring look but England just shook his head.

"A-Austria?" Spain asked, searching the nation's face in disbelief as he approached. He stood inches from Spain's face, grinning in a very unsettling way.

"Huh? No it's awesome me! Prussia!" Austria shouted. He threw his arms around Spain and hugged him tightly. Spain didn't react; he just stood still and let Austria – Prussia? – hold him. "Why are you wearing a hat like that? And why have you got an old sword? Are you having a fancy dress party? Dude count me in!"

"Hey you! Don't run off with my body!" came another voice from the corridor.

Prussia appeared, looking very flustered and red-faced. He was smartly dressed in his uniform and his boots looked as if they had been polished recently. His hair had been tamed with gel and he looked relatively well groomed. The ex-nation strode forwards with clenched fists and a scowl. His hand moved to his face and he began to search for glasses before remembering his current body didn't wear glasses.

"Oh Specs, there you are! Keep up or you'll be left behind fucktard!" Austria snapped, letting go of Spain and spinning to face Prussia, hands on hips and grin plastered on his face.

"My head hurts," Denmark muttered as he watched the interaction. Everyone else nodded in agreement.

"Get off!" England hissed as he felt a hand sneak under Sweden's coat. France retracted his hand, only to place it on England's waist. His other hand trailed down the back of England's neck, which he tried to subtly swat away. He heard France chuckle in his ear as the hand trailed down his spine to roughly squeeze his behind. England sighed and ignored the pervert, focusing on the conversation at hand.

"Kindly dress in an appropriate manner, especially when you're inside my body," snapped Austria-in-Prussia's-body. He stood next to Prussia-in-Austria's-body and glared at England. England had no energy or will to be affronted. He just shook his head again and waited for the question.

"Wayhay Specs! Didn't know you had a clothes fetish," Prussia-in-Austria's-body laughed, slapping Austria-in-Prussia's-body on the back. The nation almost fell from the impact, but straightened himself gracefully with a cough.

"So... you two have... swapped bodies then?" Romano asked with an unusual deadpan tone. He then squeaked and slapped the air around him. Everyone looked at him oddly and England sighed as he watched France dance away with a grin.

"That strange man just pinched him," Norway said, still looking blank and slightly confused as he watched France circle around Romano, prodding and poking the scared man. Everyone looked to England, who nodded in agreement, while Romano moved to cower behind Spain.

"France is invisible," he added to the confused looking Austria and Prussia. He stepped forwards and grabbed France by the arm, pulling him away. To everyone else, England just grabbed the air. "Spain put that rapier down," England added, watching the nation advance from the corner of his eye.

"I'll get you wretched England," Spain spat, tugging his hat into a better angle. England just rolled his eyes and pulled France away from Finland, who was squealing and kicking the air, choking Denmark with his movements.

"Back to the topic at hand," Sweden said, his voice brooking no argument, "Austria and Prussia have swapped bodies, correct?" He shifted Iceland to his other arm, who slept soundly. England envied him.

"J-Ja we've swapped bodies," Prussia-in-Austria's-body stammered, glancing at the group with suspicious eyes, "but awesome me is still awesome, even in this old body."

"Old? You're one to talk. Your body is covered in scars, it's a wonder you're still walking," Austria-in-Prussia's-body grumbled, reaching upwards to non-existent glasses again.

"And your body is so smooth," Prussia-in-Austria's-body purred, dipping a hand under his shirt. He licked his lips, which looked very strange on Austria's face. "I could touch it all day."

"Stop doing that to my body!" Austria-in-Prussia's-body snapped, taking a swing at the other nation. Prussia-in-Austria's-body dodged easily. His other hand began to snake under the band of his trousers.

"Why should I stop? It's not the first-"

"ENOUGH!" England screamed, causing everyone to turn and stare. "We don't have time to stand here and watch you argue!"

"Well if you could learn control yourself, we wouldn't be in this mess," Austria-in-Prussia's-body snapped. He crossed his arms and scowled again, tapping his foot on the ground. He looked like a father giving a lecture to a child.

"If you must know, someone has stolen my wand and created this huge mess," England spat. "We're on our way to get my wand back and correct this mistake, so you're welcome to tag along. Hopefully this can be resolved quickly."

"You expect me to believe that?" Austria-in-Prussia's-body asked with a shake of his head.

England gestured to the remainder of the group. "You think I would do all this then turn myself into a girl and loose my wand on purpose?" he replied, his girlish voice squeaking at Austria's accusation. Grumbles of agreement sounded from the group; England was grateful that for once they were all on his side.

"What's all the commotion?" a deep voice boomed. Everyone looked up towards the voice. There stood another man, tall and lithe and moving in a very feminine fashion. He had long brown hair pulled into a ponytail, green eyes and... was that a flower in his hair? He wore brown trousers and a white lace shirt. He was staring at the group with slight concern, hands clasped behind his back. He looked very well groomed for a man, with soft skin and tidy hair... almost as if he was originally...

_Oh for fucks sake! Could this day get any worse? _England thought with despair.

"Hungary?" Spain blurted. "You're a boy?"

"Yes. Ironic isn't it?" the man said, tilting his head and smiling the way Hungary did.

"Fucking hell what a mess," France grumbled at England's side. He ran a hand through his hair. "When this is over, I think we'll all need a very strong drink."

England said nothing, but he nodded slightly in reply. Austria-in-Prussia's-body was repeating England's message to Hungary, who frowned and nodded gravely, while Prussia-in-Austria's-body was talking loudly at Spain, trying to understand why his friend looked so confused and why he didn't remember half of the fights and jokes they had enjoyed over the years. Romano stepped in and explained what had happened, to which Prussia-in-Austria's-body laughed heartily, clutching his sides.

"I understand now," Hungary said with a familiar smile. "Although being a boy isn't so bad. I always thought I was one years ago..." she trailed off with a sigh and shake of her head.

A wave of despair washed over England as he surveyed the ragtag group of nations before him. Prussia-in-Austria's-body was encouraging Spain to sword-fight with him, despite having no weapon himself, while Hungary and Austria-in-Prussia's-body were doing their best to dissuade him. Romano was still hiding behind Spain, tentatively slapping the air to ensure France wasn't near. Finland was still clinging to Denmark's back and trying to sneak his hands underneath Denmark's shirt. Denmark was doing his best to wriggle away from Fin's hands, but Finland had succeeded in undoing a few buttons. Norway was watching everyone with a bemused smile, his eyes often straying to France, who was again trying to sneak a hand along England's leg. England ignored him, shaking his head. This was a complete nightmare.

"We don't have time for this," Sweden grumbled at England, snapping him out of his melancholy. England stepped back under the heat of his stare. Damn that man was scary!

"Y-yes, you're right," England stammered. He grabbed the nearest nation – unfortunately it was France – and tugged him towards the meeting room. He could see the large grey fire-doors ahead and his blood began to boil again. How dare someone even think of stealing his wand! England snarled and his nose flared again, but he didn't care. He needed to concentrate... he needed a plan. As much as he wanted to throw open the doors and beat the culprit with his bare hands, the man still had England's wand. If he had half a brain, he might use it to defend himself... which could result in terribly for everyone.

However, England did have one advantage.

"Angleterre?"

"Listen France," England said in a hushed whisper so none of the others could hear him, "no one beside me and Norway can see you, so I might need your help getting my wand back."

France wrapped an arm around England's waist as they walked. "Oh? What do I get in return?"

"Is that all you think about?" England snapped, trying to push the man away. It only made France's hold tighter. Pulling England to a stop, France's other hand stroked his cheek lovingly, making England blush. France's face was inches away from his and the proximity made England's temperature soar.

"Not always," he purred, dipping down to nuzzle England's neck. "But I still find it cute that you can blush and try to resist me after all these years."

England fought against the sarcastic retort that he wanted to say. He needed France's help, otherwise he and the other nations could stay this way for the rest of time. With a sigh, England conceded. "Fine, what do you want? Maid service again?"

"Non. Let me think about it and I'll tell you after we've sorted out this problem," France said with a smirk, cupping England's behind. England pushed him away.

"Fine fine, but it had better not be naked modelling again!" he spat, brushing down Sweden's coat, trying to smooth out the creases France had made. He made a mental note to have the garment dry-cleaned when this was over.

"Oh... that's a good idea."

"Be quiet and listen!" England snapped. He turned is back to the other nations – he had heard rumours Austria could lip-read very well – and in hurried whispered laid out his plan. France nodded and made non-committal noises every now and then, but he seemed to accept what he had to do.

"Are you sure you've understood everything?" England asked for the fourth time.

France rolled his eyes. "Yes I'm sure. Now let's go, before he gets away with your wand again!"

England took a deep breath, readying himself for the upcoming confrontation. He beckoned the other nations over and quickly relayed a summarised plan. As a group, they nodded and wished England luck. Grim determination was in their eyes. With a final nod, England and France lead the group towards the meeting room. England suppressed the butterflies in his stomach; now was not the time for nerves!

He reached the grey fire-doors and took a deep breath. Someone squeezed his shoulder in reassurance. Mussing his earlier feelings of anger and indignation, England threw open the meeting room doors, Sweden's coat billowing behind him. He stepped inside and locked in his eyes on the target, who hadn't moved from the seat he had occupied. He looked up and his head tilted in surprise.

"There you are!" England shouted. He pointed a finger at the lone nation sat inside the meeting room. The man stopped twirling England's wand in his hand and stared as the other nations chaotically poured into the meeting room behind England.

Striding forwards, England clenched his fists ready for a fight. "You've got a lot to answer for America!"


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter V

Fists clenched at his side, blond hair in a messy ponytail, England stood glaring at the nation who had stolen his wand in the middle of the night and who had caused complete chaos throughout the hotel. The sight of America sitting smugly while inflicting madness made his blood boil. Several ideas ran through England's mind, despite the agreed arrangement he had made with France. He could try and be calm and persuade America to give back his wand. He could take the 'angry father' approach and make America give back his wand with an apology. He could beat the shit out of America until he pried his wand back from cold, dead hands... he settled on the second option, closely followed by the third, although his choice did depend on America's answers to his questions.

"Why America? Why did you steal my wand you fucking idiot?" England spat. He heard the other nations behind him mutter in agreement and shuffle as they made their way inside the meeting room. Tables and chairs had already been set up; America looked like the boss of a crime syndicate as he sat in the top seat.

"Who are you? Do I know you?" America asked, his eyes narrowed in confusion. He stopped twirling England's wand as his eyes ran the length of England's body. England's anger sky-rocketed.

"It's me you fucking idiot! England!" he screamed, stomping his foot on the ground.

"England?" America sounded unconvinced. "Are you wearing Sweden's coat?"

"Just shut up and answer the question dickhead!" Denmark spat behind England.

"America? Who is that?" Norway mumbled. The others ignored his question until France muttered something in his ear.

"You did this to us," England heard Iceland squeak. "Fucking undo whatever you've done right now and we won't hurt you that badly." The voice sounded too cute to take seriously. America's lips curled into a slight smile.

"Hurt me?" he repeated. "What... who is that kid Sweden? Where did you find him?"

"It's Iceland you fucking twat!" England shouted, stepping closer to America. "You should know, you created the fucking spell!"

Unbelievably, America's face creased in further confusion. England couldn't believe just how _dumb_ his former brother was.

"I did that?" was all he said.

"You fucking-"

England's accusation was cut off by the opposite door of the meeting room flying open, slamming into the wall and wedging itself in the hole it made. America jumped at the noise, but England merely prepared himself for yet another nightmare. What he didn't expect was Canada to come storming through the door. He stood tall and proud, with muscles showing along his arms and chest. His bear companion was missing. His blue eyes narrowed at the sight of England and he growled – actually _growled_ – and raised a fist.

"England!" he shouted, his voice a deep bass. "What the fuck have you done to us?" he added with a gesture to the rest of the nations following him inside the meeting room.

England's jaw fell open at the sight, his head swaying in utter disbelief.

Germany appeared first, his face red with anger and his arm around a quivering Italy, who had grown cat ears and a tail. He stood clawing at Germany's shirt, sniffing and crying as he tail flicked from side to side.

Next through the door was Switzerland, his features matching Germany's. There was even a vein at his temple threatening to burst. He held the hand of a beautiful woman who looked mildly confused as to where she was and what was happening. She had short blonde hair, a curvaceous figure with rather large breasts and was almost his height. England's eyes grew wide when he realised it was Liechtenstein.

Behind her stood an old man with grey hair pulled into a ponytail, leaning heavily on a walking stick clutching the hand of a small, black haired boy. England's heart sank at the sight; it was China and Japan. Next to them stood Ukraine with her arms wrapped around her sister Belarus. Belarus was smiling happily, holding Ukraine tightly around the waist and whispering something that made Ukraine's eyes bulge in concerned surprised.

"What the fuck?" someone behind England breathed as the next nation ducked under the door-arch. Latvia stood in the corner, trying to blend in with the grey walls of the room. It would have worked had he not been 190cm tall; his head actually brushed the ceiling of the room! At his side, Estonia appeared, looking pale and worn, but otherwise untouched by magic.

Behind him stumbled Russia, being pushed by a butch looking Lithuania. Similar to Canada, Lithuania had muscles bulging on his arms and a snarl on his face. One hand was holding Russia's scarf as he towered him, whispering threatening words in his ear. Russia's face showed no fear, although his sin was rather pale. Following Lithuania was a girl in green dress, which matched her green eyes. She was smiling and seemed genuinely happy with her appearance. England groaned... well Poland always wanted to be a girl.

All the nations stood grumbling, their eyes fixed on England, who merely pointed at America as the answer to their unspoken question. America still had England's wand in his hand, held between two fingers like a cigarette. The second group of nations turned their gaze on America, fists clenched and angry accusations on their lips.

America's eyes switched from one group to another. "Whoa. This... this thing works?" he stammered as he surveyed everyone in the room. He remained seated in his chair, looking like the king overseeing his minions. He looked confused and worried...

Then his face split into an inane grin.

"This is so cool!" he said loudly. He laughed at himself and eyed the wand in his hand with wild interest. "I've been saying random stuff all day, and it actually came true? Awesome! Guess spinning this thing around like a baton helps too. So what else can this thing do? What if I-"

A loud cracked echoed through the room. Everyone turned to look at England. His anger had snapped and he had punched through one of the tables inside the meeting room, wood chippings falling to the ground. He wrenched his fist free, ignoring the blood that trickled from his damaged knuckles. His anger was too powerful to register the pain.

"Cool? That's all you have to say?" England barked as he advanced on America. "You've put all of us through hell, and you think it's _cool?_ You fucking little..."

Sweden's coat billowed around his waist as England lunged at America, aiming for the nation's throat. America had little time to react as England landed in America's lap. The momentum of his movement tipped the chair backwards and the two nations crashed to the floor, one cursing loudly. As England fell forwards on top of America, his hands wrapped around the larger nation's neck and squeezed. Shouts of encouragement in many languages followed his actions, spurring him on. America's breathing became a wheeze and England clenched harder, throttling America as he felt nails rake his arms and chest. America somehow managed to overpower England and shove him away. He began to crawl away, but England lunged for him again, landing on his back and sending America crashing to the floor. England slammed his face into the ground with one hand while reaching for his wand with the other, keeping America pinned with his legs.

During the foray, France appeared and began to pry America's hand apart. America looked up and shrieked when he saw no one there but could see his fingers being pulled apart. England started to pull America's hair and knee him in the back. This was part of the previously agreed plan. America was very strong, too strong for one person to take on. England knew this, so he had devised a simple yet effective plan. America couldn't see France, so while England was beating him up, France would sneak over and pull the wand free, scaring America into submission, who was assume that there was a ghost in the room. And the idiot nation was terrified of ghosts.

That was the plan. However America clenched his fists tighter, refusing to give up the wand, so England slammed his face onto the floor again, relishing the sound of snapping cartilage. America squealed and released the wand, his hands flying to his nose. France snatched up the wand as England gasped for breath, his muscles tingling from exertion. Concerned voices drifted through the room at the sight of a magically floating wand, but England ignored them. As he rose, England stood on America's back to keep him from running away. Feeling victorious, England grabbed the wand from France's hand, mouthing his thanks. France just grinned and stepped back. Before the crowd had time to cheer, England spun his wand in a grand manner and shouted at the top of his lungs.

"UNDO!"

A bright light burst into the room and there was a loud _pop_. All the nations were blinded and their ears began to ring from the aftershock. Moments passed and the light began to recede. The figures inside the meeting room blinked the water from their eyes and stood staring. No one felt any different. Had England's magic worked? No one dared to even breathe in case something else had gone wrong.

The light faded complete and England as the first to sigh in relief as he looked down at his body. The breasts were gone; he was a man again and still in Sweden's coat. He hurriedly undid the belt as his waits, which was cutting into him painfully. He raised his eyes and smiled as the other nations shook themselves into reality.

Finland screamed and dropped from Denmark's back, landing on the floor in a heap. Norway blinked as if waking from a deep sleep, his eyes widening at the sight of Iceland being held by Sweden. Iceland cried out and fought his way out of Sweden's embrace. Spain dropped his rapier with a look of horror and pulled his hat into his hands, glancing at Romano. Prussia and Austria began to run hands over their bodies, sighing in relief and muttering praises in German. Canada faded into the background. Italy ran a hand across his head and broke into a smile when he found he no longer had cat ears. Germany jumped as France appeared at his side. Lithuania squealed and hurriedly let go of Russia's scarf, running to cower behind Estonia. Latvia had returned to his normal height, though he looked a little crestfallen. Hungary and Poland looked down at their bodies and sighed in disappointment. China and Japan looked at each other and smiled in relief, though they hurriedly let go of each other's hands with a cough. Liechtenstein blinked several times as Switzerland threw his arms around her, grateful she had returned to normal. Belarus slowly let go of Ukraine's shoulders, her glare silencing any words her sister wanted to speak.

"Thank goodness," someone muttered. Other replies drifted through the crowd.

"Thank you England."

"About time!"

"Finally I'm back to normal."

"That was fun!"

"You're alright! Thank god!"

"I'm back to normal!"

England sighed again, a wave of tiredness washing over him. What a morning it had been. But before he could collapse, there was one more thing he had to do.

With a little hop, England jumped down from America's back. America groaned and pushed himself up with one hand, the other cupping his nose. His glasses were cracked and nose was bleeding profusely and bent at an angle. Wearily he pushed himself up into a kneeling position, wincing in pain. England loomed over him, smug satisfaction pulling at his lips. The crowd grew quiet, waiting for England to exact his revenge. America looked up, his eyes teary and full of fear. England twirled his wand over his hand and muttered a spell under his breath. A large ruby appeared in his hand and he smiled dangerously at America, who tried to back away, but ended up against the wall of the meeting room. England stepped on his foot; America cried out and whimpered.

"If you think acting like that will save you, it won't," England stated, looking down his re-shaped nose at America. He threw the ruby upwards and caught it deftly. "I'm far too angry to punish you properly, but I'm sure I'll think of something. You'll be staying inside this ruby until then. But first..."

Knuckles cracked. Sleeves were rolled up. England backed away as the other nations converged on a cowering America.

"I'll let the others have their revenge," England said, his voice dripping with venomous glee.


	6. Epilogue

Epilogue

Two weeks had passed since the 'incident' in America's hotel. There had been no repercussions from the magical disaster and all of the nations had each returned to their homes in once piece and in their original forms. It was a cold, cloudy day, in England's home, thus he and Norway found themselves sitting by the fireplace a warm afternoon drink. They sat in silence reflecting on what had happened at the meeting, laughing and joking at some of the things America had managed to achieve. Norway's memories of that day were still blurry and he didn't trust Denmark to tell him the whole truth, so he had asked England if he could visit for a proper explanation. England had been happy to have his friend over and explain what had happened. He also needed a little favour and only Norway could help.

A few fairies swirled in the air as England placed a plate of freshly made biscuits onto a small coffee table. He had made them earlier, and it seemed to be one of the few things he made well. He saw Norway eye them hungrily. Even some of the fairies fluttered down, two trying to tug one away for themselves. England leaned back into his chair and blew on his tea to cool it.

"So that's what happened," Norway muttered, sipping his coffee. He nodded to himself, trying to match the memories he had with what England had described.

"Unfortunately yes," England murmured, taking a biscuit from the plate. "I hope the others aren't too scarred by their experiences." He did feel bad for what had happened, but he was also relieved that he had been absolved of any blame. Some of the nations had sent him gifts of gratitude for undoing the spells America had set upon them.

"They're fine," Norway said with a wave of his hand. "I haven't seen Sve or Fin or a while, so I assume their doing their best to get over the trauma." England took a sip of tea, trying not to laugh. "I'm glad you managed to return things to normal."

"I would have been lynched if I hadn't managed it," England grumbled into his teacup. Norway lips curled in a slight smile.

"What about the humans in the hotel? You said they disappeared."

"They returned too. I asked some of the reception staff if they remembered anything. Apparently the clocks jumped forwards while they were busy working and no one noticed. They blamed it on stress. I didn't bother to correct them."

"There's just one thing I don't quite understand," Norway asked as he took a biscuit for himself. "How did America manage to use your wand if he doesn't believe?"

"He does," England said with a sigh. He dipped the remainder of his biscuit in his tea before finishing it. "The man just won't admit it. I think he's always believed subconsciously. All the time we spent together when he was younger must have taken root somewhere in that brain of his and that time he found me as a girl added to this belief. He just wants to save face and act the hero all the time to the others, and heroes don't need magic to win their battles."

"Stubborn as always that America," Norway agreed with a nod. "Have you ensured that this won't happen again?" he added, looking at England over the rim of his coffee cup.

"I've added more safeguards to my wand now, so only I can use it. I should have done it a long time ago really," England said. He finished his tea and set the cup down on the coffee table.

"Where is America now?" Norway asked, taking another biscuit.

"Ah yes, that's another reason I called you over." England stood and pulled a large ruby from his trouser pocket. He placed it in the centre of the room, away from the furniture but close to the fire. Norway eyed the gem with a raised eyebrow, but said nothing as England retrieved his wand from its new location.

"Partial revenge? You spoil me," Norway said with a tiny smirk.

England shook his head. "Not entirely. I... need you to babysit for a little while."

"Babysit?"

"You'll see," England said, standing away from the ruby. He raised his wand and said a few words quickly under his breath.

On the carpeted floor, the ruby began to shimmer and shake. Norway watched with blank curiosity as the gem started to fade and curl in on itself. A bright red light flashed, obscuring the ruby and a loud thump sounded. When the light had cleared, a limp body lay where the ruby had been. Norway eyebrows rose at the sight of America lying dirty and thin on England's floor, shivering in the cold. His dirty clothes seemed to hang off his skinny frame, even his cowlick look limper than usual. His nose was re-shaped, but there was a little dried blood on his chin. The nation grumbled and slowly turned himself over to face the fire, hugging himself.

"Should I be worried?" Norway asked, not moving from his seat.

"No he'll be fine. Two weeks kept in stasis won't do him any harm," England said as he draped a blanket over the shivering America. "Plus his boss knows he's here, so there's no consequences to be suffered."

"You want me to babysit him? Where are you going and for how long?" Norway asked not taking his eyes off the sleeping nation. His voice was edged with a little worry.

"I shouldn't be gone long," England said, walking over to his chair with boots in hand. "I've bought a MacDonald's for him; it's in the microwave keeping warm. Just leave him there; he'll sleep the rest of the afternoon away. I'll sort him out when I return."

England tugged on his brown boots and grabbed his coat that had been conveniently draped over his banisters. With a final check of his keys and wand – which disappeared into his coat pocket – England opened the door and stepped outside.

"Where are you going?" Norway asked with more determination. He stood and followed England to the door, crossing his arms and tapping his foot. From the fireplace, America groaned.

England cringed at the door, not turning to face his friend. His ears and neck betrayed him by turning a bright red.

"Well?" Norway persisted.

England coughed and walked away, muttering his reply over his shoulder.

"I'm off to France's house. I've... a debt to settle..."


End file.
